


Next To You

by castoffstarter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sleepwalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castoffstarter/pseuds/castoffstarter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis's been sleepwalking again. Zayn notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next To You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Tumblr user [louishamlinson](http://louishamlinson.tumblr.com/): Louis sleepwalks + angsty Zouis. Originally posted [here](http://gentlehousing.tumblr.com/post/43362665214/1500-words-of-what-the-prompt-says-for-my-dearest) for her birthday. A lousy lack of porn. My sincerest apologies.

Louis’s been sleepwalking again.

Zayn finds him sitting in the hallway outside his room in L.A., long past midnight the day before they kick off the second leg of tour. Too busy pocketing his key card to notice right away, Zayn’s breath catches at the sight of Louis’ prone body sat facing his door; his eyes are open but vacant, staring unseeing at the wallpaper across from him with his bare feet sticking out in front of him like a child. Harry used to tell stories about the conversations they had had back when Louis would crawl into his bed, these long, rambling threads of nonsense that made him cover his mouth in bursts of laughter. Zayn had only half listened, stomach tightening uncomfortably, frightened by that kind of unconscious invasion of privacy.

He can’t imagine trying to talk to someone that looks lost inside of his own body the way Louis does. Turning to drop the ice bucket on the table inside his door before it closes, he sits down next to Louis, just close enough to feel his body heat but not close enough to touch in case he wakes Louis up, and forgets all about the ice machine he’d left his room to find. Mimicking Louis’ posture, Zayn stares at the wallpaper on the opposite wall, hyper focuses until his eyes cross and all he can hear is his heart beating just below the bass line of the music he’d left on in his room.

When Paul shakes him awake some time later Zayn has a moment of disoriented panic until he finds Louis’ head propped against his shoulder, eyes closed with one hand curled loosely around Zayn’s bicep. Louis doesn’t so much wake up as curl tighter around Zayn’s arm when they both nudge him.

Paul stares down at the pair of them, sighs heavily. Zayn answers his unspoken question.

“Found him sitting here. ‘round two, I reckon. Don’t think I saw the time. Came to fetch some ice to cool off m’ tea. What time is it now?” He turns his head to crack his neck so he doesn’t have to meet Paul’s concerned gaze.

“Not yet six. Let’s get him back to his room. Bus call isn’t until ten today.” Paul helps Zayn pull Louis into a standing position, but after Louis whines under his breath and mumbles an approximation of ‘no’ and ‘sleep’ and ‘mum’, resolutely refusing to open his eyes, Zayn huffs out a fond laugh and tells Paul not to bother forcing him towards the elevator.

“He can kip in my bed, it’s cool.” Louis leans heavily against the wall as Zayn digs in his hoodie pocket for his keycard and plasters himself to Zayn’s back once the door is opened, his arms curling around Zayn’s waist to keep himself standing. Zayn places one hand over Louis’ fingers where they’re clasped too tightly below his belly button, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

Paul doesn’t even blink when Zayn says, over the mop of Louis’ hair against his shoulder, to make sure they’re all on the same floor for the rest of tour. He doesn’t ask.

 

***

 

The door hasn’t even closed when Louis peels himself off of Zayn’s back and shuffles over and onto the bed, almost upsetting Zayn’s laptop, curling into himself in the middle of the mattress and pulling the duvet up over his head. Zayn watches the tense lines of him under the covers, staring from the foot of the bed. He doesn’t realize how tight his own shoulders are until he can see Louis relax, his breath evening out. Only then does he move his dead laptop out of the way, pull his hood up, and crawl behind Louis on top of the covers. He pulls Louis closer with a hand pressed into what he thinks is Louis’ belly and tucks his legs up to fit into the bunched blanket behind Louis’ knees.

When his alarm wakes him again he’s under the covers and Louis is gone.

 

***

 

Most days Zayn feels too tight, aimed like a bullet just waiting for the spark to ignite the black powder itching under his skin. He stares out the bus window and squints, lets his eyes cross just enough so that the landscape blurs, blobs of green fading into grey nothingness. He stays that way for so long he can’t tell if he’s awake or dreaming. It’s not until Louis kicks his ankle to get past him, raising an eyebrow and passing him a controller so they can finish their mission, that he snaps out of it, rolls his neck to relieve the tension.

Later, they’ll be at a truck stop, refueling, when Louis convinces Zayn to climb the tour bus, their fingers slipping on the sun-warmed metal. Zayn hates the way his stomach swoops when he looks down at the ground as he’s pushing off the last rung and pulling himself onto the top of the bus. Louis says they’re going to count clouds, says, “I’ll help you get Josh back for stealing your last yogurt if you pretend you can see what I do.” Zayn knows better than to accept Louis’ terms of agreement on anything, but he grabs his hand and doesn’t let go even when they’re safely on their backs looking up at the sky.

They manage to spot a few dirty ones between them - one of which looks like a burly man fucking a giraffe that makes Louis try to engage Zayn in a conversation about the ethics of bestiality - before Louis rolls over and bites Zayn’s cheek.

“What’s that for, then?” Zayn says, rubbing the spit clean.

Louis lifts his free shoulder in a half shrug. “You’ve been disappearing lately. Just wanted to make sure you’re still here.”

Zayn meets Louis’ steady gaze, thinks about the blank stare Louis has when he’s sleepwalking, and realizes it’s the first time he’s made proper eye contact with anyone in days. He almost says something cutting, wants to tell Louis to stop looking at him. Instead of answering he squints until Louis becomes a tannish blur against a blue and white backdrop and feels his eyes water from how bright the image is, even diluted. He wipes a hand over his face and sits up.

“Gonna grab a smoke.” He doesn’t know whether he’s responding to Louis’ statement or some prolonged conversation he’s been having with himself, but Louis doesn’t push him. His eyebrows are knit together, and Zayn can see he’s chewing on his cheek, thinking something over. Zayn wants to be patient, but the way Louis’s staring is making the itch worse. Zayn thinks wildly for a second like he can almost feel the trigger being squeezed, like he couldn’t look away if he tried.

Licking over his bottom lip, Louis ducks down again and presses his lips to the corner of Zayn’s mouth and then rolls over and jumps off the side of the bus, lands hard on the balls of his feet and stumbles forward a little before catching himself.

“Jump then, bad boy, let’s see it.” Louis has to shield his eyes from the sun to shout it; Zayn imagines he can count the individual white teeth of Louis’ teasing smile.

Zayn climbs down the ladder, hands shaking.

 

***

 

The next time Louis sleepwalks Zayn’s sitting in the back lounge, sprawled with his laptop resting on his sternum so he can Skype with his sisters before they leave for school without having to expend any energy. The door drags slowly, squeaking, caught in the castors for a moment before snapping open all the way. He looks up from where he’s watching Waliyha lay out Safaa’s clothes to see Louis trip over the video game controllers on the floor. His eyes are open, limbs loose as he falls onto the couch next to Zayn.

“Is that your Loueh?” Waliyha asks, face pressed close to the camera on her laptop as if it will help her see better.

Zayn feels his face heat, speaks quiet and rushed. “Yeah, yeah, look have a good day at school, okay? I’ve gotta get to bed. Early morning and all.” He closes his laptop before Waliyha can answer, and ignores the twinge of guilt he feels.

He puts his computer down and looks at Louis. His arms are thrown wide, the fingers of his left hand just brushing Zayn’s shoulder, head tipped back against the sofa, the pale column of his throat exposed, a parody of some religious icon in baggy sweatpants and a ratty old hoodie Zayn recognizes as his own.

Zayn knows he should go back to his bunk, but instead he pulls a blanket off the floor and folds his legs up as he twists sideways to fit, digging his toes into the space between the cushions, almost touching Louis’ thigh. He watches as Louis swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, before he closes his eyes. He imagines he can still see Louis’ sharp profile against the backs of his eyelids.

 

***

 

Louis’s been sleepwalking again. Zayn supposes he has been, too.


End file.
